


Tarkata!Erron Black x Reader

by orphan_account



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, Tarkata!Erron Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My titles are absolutely fantastic aren't they? </p>
<p>Check out http://mortalkombat-imagines.tumblr.com/ to make requests. :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Tarkata!Erron Black x Reader

**Author's Note:**

> My titles are absolutely fantastic aren't they? 
> 
> Check out http://mortalkombat-imagines.tumblr.com/ to make requests. :)

The first time you saw him without the mask it was an accident. Your voice wasn't heard over the roar of the market rabble, he didn't see the door open, and in the dying light of the sun all you could make out was the tell tale glint of what looked like daggers protruding from his mouth. You didn't say a word, couldn't say a word, because shock made you speechless, made you gawk at him. You couldn't react as he swore and practically shoved you out of the room before slamming the door right in your face. You stood there, staring at the weathered down hunk of wood like it would have all the answers to the questions spinning around inside your mind. Your jaw had popped open and you hadn't even noticed. Your mouth felt dry and a sickly feeling crept into your stomach. He was one of those… those _things_. The ones that swore to only serve Mileena. Tarkatans. Hideous beasts with large mouths filled with razor sharp teeth and blades that could shoot from their forearms. You practically stumbled your way back to the bar below. As you sat at your usual table, you couldn't shake the knots forming in your chest, the anxiety that weighed like an anchor strapped with frayed rope, threatening to snap at any second. You felt as though you couldn't breathe. So you ordered a drink, something to loosen the nerves, make you forget.

 

Except that you couldn't, even after the fourth one. It was well gone dark, the tavern lit with lanterns and its occupants chatting and laughing merrily with one another. A tarkata lived upstairs, and they didn't even know. Hell, you didn't even know, and you were sleeping with him. The mask stayed on during your intimate moments, his fingers ghosting over your lips the closest thing to a kiss between the two of you. You'd assumed that it was some facial disfigurement he was hiding, or a brutal scar or burn. You'd never suspected… this. Especially with how human he looked. His eyes weren't the same harsh and predatory glare that Mileena's were, he lacked the bulbous head and the pointed ears, and when he spoke it never came out in the guttural growl you'd heard other Tarkata use. He only had the teeth. But how could he only have the teeth?

 

Now you were on your sixth drink, but the buzz had yet to kick in. The mug had only just reached your lips before a hand shot out and pushed it back onto the table. Erron Black stood over you, his dark blond hair more dishevelled than usual, like he'd spent the past few hours running his hands through it over and over. The Kohl around his eyes was smeared.

 

“Will you come back to the room?” his voice was softer than usual, muffled behind the mask now back in place.

 

You thought about it for a moment, your eyes just briefly glancing over his gun holsters. They were empty. And they were never empty before. Even so, you braced yourself and nodded. You had no way of knowing if he was a spy or not, you had to be on your guard. This is what you kept telling yourself as you walked back to your shared room.

 

The curtains were closed. It was dark, though you could still make out the bed, the rickety chair and table wedged into the corner and the dresser where Erron's guns lay. He sat on the chair, making it creak with his weight. You gingerly took the bed, the very same place where just a few hours before you and Erron lay naked, tangled in the sheets, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Oddly enough it felt like such an age ago.

 

“How much have you had to drink?” he said.

 

You narrowed your eyes. “I'm sober, if that's what you're asking.”

 

He didn't even blink at your snappy tone. His fingers grazed over the leather mask strapped over his head. Then they paused, hesitant, before he was reaching to the back of his head. You heard a buckle click and snap before the mask fell away into his hand. And there they were. The lower half of his face was almost entirely made up of long, sharp teeth that curved inwards towards his lips. The flesh around it seemed brittle and sore, much like Mileena's. He possessed lips, which were plump and pink, alarmingly human looking compared to the rest of his lower face.

 

You didn't know what to think. You swallowed thickly, unsure of where to look. You couldn't meet his eyes even though they stared right at you.

 

“I'm _not_ one of Mileena's dogs,” he said as though sensing what was bothering you the most. He gestured towards his face, “This… It's a side effect of my long life. Something I wasn't told about. It doesn't change anything though, I'm still me.”

 

You hadn't noticed that your knee had been twitching with nerves until his hand settled upon it. “Never done you a wrong before, have I?” he asked. You meet his eyes, the very same eyes that you said “yes” to when he asked to become partners. “For now,” was what he'd said at the time, and “for now” had become almost five years later. Funny how that worked out.

 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves before speaking, “I don't know how to feel about this. It'll take some time.”

 

“That's fine.”

 

He squeezed your knee reassuringly before standing. “I'll take this next target alone. Give you some space and the time to sleep off the alcohol.”

 

His joke was weak, but you smiled regardless. The mask was clasped back on before he worked on the rest of his armour. You looked away as he dressed, staring down at your clenched hands in your lap. Eventually you heard the familiar sharp clicks of his revolvers being reloaded and sheathed into his leather holsters. Then nothing. Curiously you looked up and found that he was gazing down at you, soft brown eyes heavy lidded with doubt, like he wasn't sure if he'd ever see you again after this. You hesitated, before gingerly reaching out your hand to touch his, which trembled uncontrollably over the grip frame of his revolver. He flinched when your skin touched.

 

“I'll be here,” you said quietly.

 

His shoulders visibly slumped, though the muscles in his arms were still tensed. You beckoned him close, and when he did you pressed a small, sweet kiss to the corner of his eye. You really weren't certain how things were going to play out between you two, but you weren't ready to give this up. Not yet. Maybe not ever.


End file.
